


Dumb Cunts - a Max and Ian One-Shot Collection

by logicalities



Category: Cancer Crew, Maxmoefoe - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF, idubbbz - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, Jealousy, M/M, One Shot Collection, Pining, Sexuality Crisis, here be all sorts of dumb shit, typical profanity and foul-mouthedness athat you should already expect
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-28 11:15:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10097504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/logicalities/pseuds/logicalities
Summary: Maxian stories with all 64 colors and a built-in sharpener. Every chapter is a new adventure into idiocy, near-death experiences, and a sprinkling of love.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Basically, I either get a Maxian request on the blog or I think of something myself after 3 Rockstars and a cigarette, and it will end up in here. It's a one-stop shop for all the depravity that I bash out at 4am.
> 
> Remember to like, comment, and subscribe. 
> 
>  
> 
> *IMPORTANT* RPF is Not Real. Everything written here is fiction, and no disrespect is meant to anyone involved. DO NOT SHARE THIS WORK WITH ANYBODY NAMED IN THE WORK OR ANYONE RELATED TO THEM. Capiche? Capiche.

“...You absolute fuckin’ cuntbag.”

Max turned on his heel and stormed away from the front door, leaving Ian and the cat startled in his wake. His smile fading, Ian tentatively stepped into the house and brushed a rather large spider back outside with his toe before shutting the door. He could hear Max banging shit around in the kitchen, and he went over to stand in the threshold, watching as his friend slammed the electric kettle onto its base and swatted some dirty dishes into the sink.

“Making a bit of tea there?” he ventured, shrinking back a bit when Max leveled a searing glare at him. “Uh, what...what’s up with you, man?”

“Oh, nothing,” Max replied, still glaring, his voice already raising into a yell. “Just getting a cuppa for my mate. You might know him, actually, the scumfucker who can’t be bothered to return my calls or texts or fuck all for weeks on end but then has the balls to show up at my fuckin’ house unannounced. He’s great. Just fuckin’ bonza, mate.”

Oh, yeah. That.

“That’s why I’m here,” Ian replied, trying to keep his voice calm in the face of Max’s simmering fury, hoping it wouldn’t piss him off even further. “I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch, seriously. I wanted to surprise you, I guess-”

“Fuck away from Kyo, cunt,” Max snapped-Ian had bent down to scratch the cat’s head as he rubbed against his ankles. “Y’know, you coulda lied to me like a normal person, so I wouldn’t be sat here thinkin’ ‘oi, did Ian fuckin’ die?’ Couldn’t even tell me you were going on holiday or something, cunt? Fuck off. I don’t wanna see you right now.”

Ian was trying to be empathetic here, he really was, but he’d been so fucking ready for this moment. He’d spent months preparing for this, worked his ass off, made multiple god-awful flights back and forth across the Pacific, spent literally tens of thousands of dollars for this...for Max, really. And now Max fucking hated him. 

“So you don’t want to hear what the surprise is.”

“Oh, I thought the presence of the God of Youtube himself was the surprise-or did you clone yourself?”

Okay, fuck it.

“I live here now, you stubborn cunt,” Ian snapped. “I bought a fucking house. I live a mile and a half down the goddamn road, and I’ve been busting my ass for ages so I could get a visa and buy the house because there’s no point in my staying in California when the person I actually give a fuck about is across the ocean. That’s the surprise. Fucker.’  
The energy current running across the room was more evident in the silence. Even Kyo sensed it, and went back into the living room with a tiny chirp. Max gently set down his tea mug, looking off to the side where a Cena sat on the table.

“Ian, if you’re fucking with me,” he finally said, trailing off.

“I wouldn’t,” Ian assured him. “I just finished moving everything in an hour ago.”

“...How long have you been planning this?”

“I mean...officially, maybe seven months.” Ian coughed and looked around the room. The kettle had been whistling for a full minute now and Max made no moves to silence it. “Wanna come see it?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.”

 

*

 

Nearly all of Ian’s belongings were still in boxes, of course. His new couch sat smack in the middle of the living room, there was a small array of snacks and drinks in the fridge, and his bed frame hadn’t arrived yet, so the mattress sat in the office-he’d been too exhausted to drag it upstairs. The shelves were barren, the shower didn’t even have a curtain on it yet.

Max fucking loved it.

“This is FUCKING SIIIICK,” he shrieked, his voice echoing through the empty rooms and box towers. “It’s fuckin’ big, dude. You can film whatever the fuck you want here, y’know? Jesus, remember how tiny your shit in California was? This fuckin’ kitchen is unreal, we gotta do another Deadly Twister here, DUUUUDE. I’m fuckin’ freaking out, Ian, you...Christ. I’m still not sure you aren’t doin’ a meme on me.”

 

“No memes here.” Ian hadn’t been this happy in months, maybe years. “Meme free zone, boy. No Bradberrys on the premises.”

 

Max laughed and cracked open a soda he’d stolen out of the fridge-clearly already at home, Ian noted, which was precisely what he’d been hoping for. “Better not be.”

 

“You didn’t even see the pool yet. Maybe we can do some videos where we fly a few dozen drones into it. Or just dump in a bucket of iPhones.”

 

“Aw hell yeah, thinkin’ like a real content creator, boy.”

 

They ended up sprawled on the couch showing each other memes for an hour or so-pretty typical for them, but Ian knew it was different. Gone was the undertone of urgency in their interactions. There was no more strict schedules to stick to, worrying about what they’d be going to the next day, checking in and out of hotels, scrambling to get as many videos out as possible before the inevitable goodbye. The could just sit here like lazy slobs and laugh at stupid shit without counting the minutes. No more return flights, just Max and Ian at home, and home was in the same place. Exactly what he’d been dreaming of-well, certainly close enough.

 

“Oi, wake up,” Max said, slapping his arm and interrupting his reverie. He’d been trying to show Ian the “you know I had to do it to ‘em” kid-a stale meme if there ever was one. Most of their memes were stale, really, but Ian hadn’t been paying much attention anyway.

 

“Sorry,” he muttered, knocking Max playfully upside the head. “Tired, I guess.”

 

“No shit. You just had that face on, though.”

 

“What face? I don’t have a face.”

 

“Hell yeah you do! It’s your broody face. Makes you look all Blue Steel.”

 

“Aw, fuck off.”

 

Max smirked, but Ian knew he wasn’t fucking around. It made him squirm a bit-he’d been hoping to avoid what he knew Max wanted to discuss.

 

“You said something. At my place.” He swirled the soda bottle absently, looking anywhere in the room except for Ian’s face. “Something like the only person you care about being across the ocean.”

 

“....yeah. Basically.”

 

“Did you mean that?”

 

Did he? Ian had been running on autopilot emotionally for the entire moving process, refusing to entertain any emotional conundrums-there was no why, he just knew he needed to come here. It made sense and he’d never questioned it, but when it all boiled down, the answer was obvious. There was only one person he’d do all this for, and now realizing the implications of that, Ian was kind of fucking scared.

“I did,” he finally said, the succinct admission ringing through the sparse room, drowning out the thrum of the air conditioner and the lively buzz of outdoor nocturnal life. 

 

Fortunately-maybe-Max seemed just as spooked, if not more so. “I mean...Ian, I know you wanted to surprise me, but we could’ve talked about this.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“I mean, I could have visited more, maybe I could’ve moved to the States, I dunno. Just...this is so much. Your whole life, mate, you closed it all up to come here? For me? I don’t even want to know how much this fuckin’ place is-”

 

Ian’s long-awaited existential crisis was hitting hard and fast. Really fast. Fast enough that his mind hadn’t caught up to his body when he took Max’s bottle and set it on the floor, pulled him close, and shut him up with a kiss. His lips were chapped as hell and a lock of his hair was brushing Ian's nose, and holy fuck, he’s kissing back?

 

He pulled away after a few seconds, seconds that dragged out and shone with overexposure as they cemented in his long-term memory-Max was staring at him in total shock, and Ian couldn’t tell which one of them was shaking or if they both were.

 

“That was fucking gay, dude,” Max breathed after a thick and surreal pause.

 

“Yeah. I, uh, I’d say that was pretty gay.”

 

But then they were kissing again, and Ian struggled to find purchase, hand grasping at the back of Max’s shirt and bunching the worn cotton, brain screaming this is it! this is it! This was what he’d been chasing, what his life in the States had lacked, what he’d wanted and despaired over and quietly, forcefully denied for as long as he could recall. Every second of this infuriating, ridiculous journey had been for the foul, obnoxious, Pokemon-loving moron who was practically in his lap and clinging to him, and he realized that given the chance, Max would’ve done the same thing for him.

 

“We should probably talk about this more,” he sighed. Max mirrored the noise as he leaned his forehead against Ian’s, breath ghosting over his face, and shaky warmth bloomed in his stomach at the unexpected level of intimacy.

 

“No talking,” he replied. “Not now. I wanna fuckin’ sleep. You’ve been here three hours and I’m already worn out...how the fuck am I gonna survive a life of this, cunt?”

 

“Believe me, I’m asking myself the same thing.”

 

Before they drifted off under the sparse blankets, with the balmy night wind from the sea rustling the tree outside, Max made Ian promise to lay off the grand romantic gestures for a while after this. They were exhausting for everyone involved, not to mention gay. Ian, who was more than content to never leave the makeshift bed again, heartily agreed.

**Author's Note:**

> if you want to see something in this collection, let me know at sleepydubbbz.tumblr.com.


End file.
